


Are we moving towards some transcendental moment?

by sarahcakes613



Series: The Cohen Files [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Yara proposes to Daenerys. That's it, that's the story.





	Are we moving towards some transcendental moment?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pour une fille d'Ottawa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294801) by [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613). 



_Do you think you'll be able to pull it off?_  
_Yes. Do you think you can pull it off?_  
_Yes, it might happen. I'm all ears._  
_I'm all ears. Oh the morning glory!_

Morning Glory - Leonard Cohen

 

You always forget how bad something is until you’re back in the thick of it. It’s like a toothache, Yara thinks. As soon as the anaesthetic kicks in, you think maybe you were exaggerating the pain and it’s not as bad as all that. Except it really is, and now it’s September and it’s the last weekend before the schools are all back in session, and she’s been slinging BeaverTails all goddamn day in this small hut with its distinct lack of air flow and she wants to give Theon a toothache he’ll never forget for giving her the weekend shifts again. For all that autumn is around the corner, it is 29 degrees in the shade and Yara’s not in the shade, she’s in front of three deep fryers that have been on the entire day, because everyone wants that one last taste of summer. Never mind that the shack is open year-round, there’s something about a shift in the seasons that makes people want to cram that one last day of summer in and that means Yara and her coworkers haven’t had a minute’s quiet in almost 12 hours.

She’s fidgeting with the box in her pocket when Maron calls out the last order, and she hears a chime of laughter as she drops the dough into the fryer. Dany has taken to picking her up at the end of the day so that they can walk home together, through the Market and over to Sandy Hill where they’ve been sharing an apartment for the past three months. They both knew it was a risk, moving in together after only a few months of dating, but it’s been smooth sailing and Yara’s happier than she can ever remember being before.

Wrapping up Dany’s order, Yara tosses her cap and keys over to Maron. “I’m off, you and Rod can close up without me tonight.”

Maron rolls his eyes and waves her out the door. “Yeah, whatever, see you tomorrow.”

She greets Dany with a kiss and hands her the BeaverTail. They link arms and Yara is just about to suggest a brief detour when Rodrik sticks his head out the shack window. “Go get ‘em tiger!” he calls out. She grimaces, wishing she’d never told her brothers what she was planning for tonight. Dany looks back to him and then turns to Yara, confusion writ across her face.

“What is it you are going to get?” she asks, biting daintily into her snack. Yara pauses, distracted by the way Dany’s tongue flits out to catch stray sugar granules on her lips. “Oh, ah, nothing, he’s just being a dick. Hey, I was thinking, why don’t we walk over to the Gallery, maybe go down to the Point and watch the boats a bit?”

Dany nods agreeably. “Bien sûr, why not? Who knows when we’ll be able to enjoy a late night like this again once school picks up again.”

They walk slowly, hands entangled, talking about the events of the day. Yara tells her about some American tourists who had been very confused about what exactly a BeaverTail is made from, and Dany tells her about the progress her students have made. She beams with pride as she talks about little Lyanna Mormont, who is only nine but already showing great promise for a future in singles figure skating. Listening to Dany talk is easily one of Yara’s favourite things, the melodic tones of her pure laine Québec accent so different from her own Ottawa Valley twang.

They eventually get to the museum, but there are barricades blocking the path down to Nepean Point and white tents indicate a private event of some sort is under way. Dany shrugs and wanders over to stand under _Maman_. Yara doesn’t get the appeal of creepy giant spider statues but Dany likes it, and tonight is supposed to be about Dany, so she can work with this. Her hand strays back to her pocket, fidgeting again with the small box that’s been tucked in there since she left for work this morning.

Dany is facing away from her, head tilted up to admire the bronze and steel work. Stepping up behind her, Yara lowers herself onto one knee before clearing her throat.

“Hey babe?” She says, and Dany turns around and gasps, eyes widening. Yara takes a deep breath and continues, “Six months ago, you flew into my life entirely by chance. There isn’t a day that’s gone by since that I haven’t felt so completely in love with you that it takes my breath away.” Dany’s eyes are shining now, her hands up to her mouth as she listens. Yara pulls the ringbox out of her pocket, flipping it open and holding it up to Dany. “Dany, ma petite libellule, veux-tu m’épouser?”

Dany nods her head rapidly, unable to get any words out beyond “Oui, oui, bien sûr que oui!” and they both fumble to get the ring out of the box and onto her finger, hands shaking as it slides on. She pulls Yara up into a frantic kiss and somewhere in her periphery Yara can hear cooing. She’d been so focused on not panicking, not tripping over herself, she had forgotten where they were and the likelihood of an audience of passers-by. She doesn’t care though, not really, not when she’s got her arms around the love of her life and the taste of cinnamon sugar on her lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 29 degrees is the equivalent of 84, for the Americans reading this. If it's 29 in the shade, chances are the humidex is up around 37 C, or 100 F. Fucking hot, is my point.
> 
> Maman is a sculpture outside the National Gallery of Canada. It's super creepy imo, but lots of people love it.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maman_(sculpture)
> 
> Translations:  
> bien sûr - of course  
> ma petite libellule, veux-tu m’épouser - my little dragonfly, will you marry me  
> Oui, oui, bien sûr que oui - yes, yes, of course yes

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [And the sun pours down like honey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321717) by [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613)




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